And Still Soul Sings Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Is soul's pure voice stilled, vast vision spilled despite
heart's hidden beauty? Hesitant, soothing sting,
stumbling, humble hand sends offering
to show true flow, not stillborn, dimmed delight.
Symphony should spirit sweep, cleave tight,
touch friendship's tendrils, letting loose wound spring
to free the wealth of tenderness within.
Forswear forebodings for swift arrow's flight,
aim feathered well, refutes pride ride to fail.
Why should stored Future pale before sore Past,
feelings forlorn, torn, gusted by ghost gale?
Beyond the pale, once outcast, heart beats fast.
Soul peaks, speaks sweetly, song's strong beauty deems
hope turns new leaf, spurns grief, scope answers dreams.